Unknown
by oy vey
Summary: Wendy Moira Angela Darling. Young Victorian girl. Daughter of a banker and a beautiful housewife. Destroyer of Neverland. R&R.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Unknown

Wendy Moira Angela Darling was crying.

Tears for her forgotten parents slid continuously down her tanned cheeks, memories of their happy times as a family flashed through her brain quicker than she could comprehend and yet, in one dark little corner stood a familiar face; a face that she would never forget. The face of Peter Pan.

She knew they had to leave, although she would often have silent arguments with herself usually pushing her to tears. The longer she put off telling Michael and John that they were leaving the harder it became, but every time she opened her mouth over dinner her eyes would flicker over to where Peter was laughing at the other end of the table and she would clamp her lips shut again. She simply didn't have the heart to say it out loud, because she knew that although he denied it, Peter was in love with her. She certainly felt the same way in return.

But as she lay there on the soft animal-skin bed, a prominent memory appeared; one that had remained forgotten since they arrived at Neverland. It was the night they left, the night Nanna was sent outside by a livid Mr Darling while his children looked on in horror. The night that Mr and Mrs Darling had set off to the Bankers party. Wendy remembered with a pang of guilt that her father was doing it for her; their Aunt had scolded him that Wendy's future would be more set if he became better socialised and Mr Darling had jumped at the chance. And what had she done to thank him? She had run away from home.

Her thoughts were shattered by the Lost Boys returning home for dinner, and she realised then that she hadn't prepared them anything. Yet she didn't move to do anything about this, she remained facing away from them all on the bed, curled up in a ball. Silence fell when the Boys spotted her.

"Mother?" They asked as one, voices timid and unsure.

"Maybe she's dead!" This was Tootles, blunt as always. Wendy could almost have smiled at the petrified tone of his voice, had she not been willing herself to stop crying.

"Get out of the way!" Peter's voice said regally. The bed dipped slightly and he leaned over her, looking down at her face with an unreadable expression. "What's wrong, Mother?"

"My name isn't Mother." Wiping her eyes determinedly, Wendy sat up and faced them all. "It's Wendy. John, Michael, get ready."

"Ready for what, Mo- er, Wendy?" John asked curiously. Wendy noted with annoyance that he had streaks of red paint across his face; apparently he had been out playing with Tigerlilly again.

"We're going home, John." The sentence left a silence; awkward and horrible enough to make Wendy want to scream just to fill it. She knew full well that some of the boys wanted to play naïve and tell her continuously that she _was_ home, but fortunately they seemed to find this unnecessary. The one thing she couldn't bring herself to do was look around at Peter; to meet his disappointed, hurt gaze.

"Home...?" The words formed on Michael's lips and comprehension dawned. "Home! Mother, father, _Nanna_!"

"Exactly." Wendy confirmed, getting up and picking him up.

"Don't go Mother!" The Lost Boys cried, swarming around her and tugging at her dress desperately. The looks on their faces were enough to make Wendy want to cry, but she wouldn't be drawn back by them. She had made her choice and it was irreversible. "What will we do without a Mother?"

"Come back with us, you can share our Mother." John suggested, straightening his top hat. Wendy glanced at him, but he looked as though he knew what he was doing so she said nothing. "She'd love to have you."

"Really? A real Mother...?" Tootles trailed off in wonderment. Wendy risked a glance across at Peter while they all drifted into daydreams about what having a real Mother could be like. He was facing the opposite wall, back hunched. She knew he would have the typical scowl across his features, but she could also imagine what he was feeling inside and wanted nothing more than to run over and hug him, beg him to come with them. But she knew it would be fruitless; Peter Pan would never leave Neverland. Not even for her.

"Peter?" The Lost Boys, Michael and John were gone; waiting for her outside the tree house. During all their cheerful chatter about London and England Peter hadn't moved; and it only made Wendy feel guiltier. She felt she would have preferred it if he had exploded with anger. "Peter... are you alright?" She inched closer to the bed and paused, waiting for an answer. "Peter-" But this time he didn't give her a chance; her hand was barely inches from his shoulder when he leapt to his feet and stormed past her so hard she was thrown to the floor. Hearing her head thud, he turned around.

"Why?" He asked in a quiet, hoarse voice.

"Because London's where we belong, Peter. I can't just forget about it just like that." Wendy replied softly, getting to her feet and wincing at the pain in her head.

"Why not?" Peter's face darkened. "I'd forget about Neverland for you."

"Then come on. You'd be more than welcome in London." Wendy reasoned, realising her voice sounded desperate. But she also realised that she didn't care; choosing between Peter and her family was tearing her in half.

"You know I can't. Without me Neverland won't exist." He said sadly, looking down at the floor. "Please stay... I love you." The three words brought floods of tears back to Wendy's eyes. Sobbing uncontrollably, she collapsed to her knees and rested her head in her hands. Peter knelt beside her. "Don't go, Wendy. I don't care about the others... but please stay with me." Wendy felt as though her heart was being ripped from her chest and burned, but she knew that there was only one thing she could do and, although she would probably regret it for the rest of her life, she had to return to London.

"I'm sorry Peter." She said, tearful eyes meeting his. They lingered there for a moment before the boy vanished from the tree house and soared into the sky.

This was it. The last time he would ever speak with his Wendy. There had been a slight complication with Hook along her way home, but here they were stood together for the final time on her window ledge.

"Goodbye Peter." She whispered, kissing his cheek. Peter released her hand and watched as she joined in the celebration with her parents and new found siblings. It was a scene he could never know; and a family he could never have. But the thing that hurt the most... he could never have Wendy. Not only that, but the Lost Boys were in London with her and Hook was dead, so he couldn't even go back to life like it was without her. For the first time in his life, Peter Pan felt completely lost. So lost, in fact, that he didn't return to Neverland that night. He took one last look at the journey he would usually take, one last look at the familiar window ledge and one last look at Wendy, before flying down to the snowy pavement. Tinkerbell was fluttering alongside him warily, whispering every now and then that he should get back to Neverland. Peter couldn't survive too long out of his land and they both knew it. Smiling at her one last time, Peter Pan; the boy who would not grow up, lay down in the gutter and closed his eyes.

Neverland was gone in the morning, and all anyone found was the frozen body of a poor street urchin; green eyes open and lips forming a small smile.


End file.
